


Boredom Is A Disaster Waiting to Happen

by PenelopePenniworth



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crack, Fucking milkoviches, Gallavich, Inspired by Shameless (US), M/M, Mickey being a Milkovich, Public Blow Jobs, Pure Smut, Shameless, Shameless Smut, Smut, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, could also be a shit post lol, early gallavich, this may count as crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopePenniworth/pseuds/PenelopePenniworth
Summary: Ian and Mickey should never be left alone.When they’re left alone and bored, they do stupid shit. Absolutely stupid shit.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 8
Kudos: 161





	Boredom Is A Disaster Waiting to Happen

**Author's Note:**

> I started this oneshot so damn long ago but never finished and eventually forgot about it. I just found it yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed what I had so far that I had to finish it. Because there's never enough Gallavich smut in my life, here is a comical present for everyone.

Ian and Mickey should never be left alone. 

When they’re left alone and bored, they do stupid shit. Absolutely stupid shit. 

It was Sunday morning and particularly hot, hotter than usual. Then again, this was Chicago and its seasons could vary from mild to extreme in a matter of days or hours. It was a blessing to be inside an air conditioned building, safe and protected from 100-degree weather, but it would have been better to be anywhere but at work. 

Ever since Kash had left, Linda had finally trusted Ian enough to run the shop on his own without hovering over him like fucking Big Brother. So, Ian would open the shop and close on some days, when his schedule allowed. Sunday was one of those days. But, because it was so hot outside, for the first four of the six hours that he’d there, he’d seen all of two customers. He had been itching to close the store early and spend the rest of the sweltering hot day at the community pool or in his room in front of the box fan.

Then, Mickey came in to start his security shift—late as usual, but Ian wasn’t going to give himshit about it because some days Mickey would come in early with him when he didn’t have to. They shot shit for a while, but it’s really hard to find things to talk about for two hours straight, so they started finding random stuff to do, like playing fucking ‘I Spy’. Who does that anymore? They decided to move on to games their age, like fruit basketball. From where they sat at the counter, the basket was placed on the other side of the shop and they each took turns shooting oranges into it to see who could score the most shot in a matter of 40 seconds. 

Mickey decided to up the ante and wager a blowjob. The loser would give the winner a hummer right there in the store. The look on Mickey’s face was prideful and confident, as if it was going to be a piece of cake and the best idea he’s ever had. Ian thought he was absolutely batshit. There were still cameras in certain places of the store, not to mention Linda had eyes in the back of her head even when she wasn’t in the room. The store had to stay open for prospected pickup of traffic for ice cream and cold water… Ian listed off all the reasons why they shouldn’t, but the quirk of that dark eyebrow and smirk of those full lips quickly rendered all of that moot.

Best two out of three games later, Ian stayed in his initial seat at the register, but jeans pooling around his ankles, ass bare and sticky against the wooden stool under him. Instead of being stooped on the stool with a Snickers bar and a magazine in his hands, Mickey was crouched between Ian’s legs, face full of red hair. 

Ian wasn’t entirely sure who was actually winning in this wager.

He bowed his head low, pleasure slowly overtaking him as Mickey worked his cock in a tantalizing pace. Apparently, because they had three hours left of the store being open, Mickey thought it was a good idea to take his sweet time. 

Although the air conditioner was doing a good job keeping the store cool, Ian was burning up. The warm mouth wrapped around him set his body on fire. Ian has had a number of blow jobs in his life—all were pretty decent he had thought, but when Mickey came along, they were nothing compared to those perfect lips, that skilled tongue, the perfect technique.

Suddenly, the entrance chimes rang and Ian quickly picked up his head as two kids, probably in high school, walked in laughing. They glanced at Ian, who was trying to keep his expression even when Mickey rubbed the tip of his tongue over his slit, a move he had known Ian to enjoy. The redhead’s toes curled as he let out a sharp breath through his nostrils and he placed a firm hand to Mickey’s forehead to push him away. The latter only swatted his hand away and took him in deeper, feeling the tip of his dick against his lover’s throat and the vibration from Mickey’s soft moan.

_Fuck…_ A low groan sat deep in Ian’s throat as fought to keep his eyes open, alert, and engaging. It was a fucking struggle. He sent a grimacing smile to the high-schoolers to send them on their way, although this secrecy of getting sucked off right under unsuspecting noses was turning Ian on more, but they did, venturing into a random aisle. 

When they were out of earshot, Ian leaned back slightly to look down at Mickey, who only looked back up at him with those sparkling blue eyes, cheeks tinted red, and lips swollen from manhandling Ian’s cock, which Mickey's mouth had refused to let go of. One hand was circling his shaft and the other had been dug into his own pants, the movements of his arm indicating he was stroking himself while sucking Ian off. It did all but fill him with a pleasurable sensation like jolts of sparklers taking place of blood circulating his system. _Fuck fuck fuck…_

“M-Mickey, _stop_ ,” he whispered through the lump in his throat, eyes flitting up every so often to make sure the kids weren’t around, and the corner of Mickey’s lips rose to a smile. He circled his tongue around him, the coarse surface feeling like bliss against the soft skin, and hollowed out his cheeks as he slid his lips to the top, releasing him with a soft _pop_. The sudden shift in temperature sent a shiver down Ian’s spine. 

In all honesty, the last thing he wanted Mickey to do was stop—for being a closeted gay, Mickey knew how to work his mouth so fucking well. But he was _working—they_ were both on the clock; there were _customers_ in the building. They weren’t alone. 

It didn’t stop Mickey from pumping him continuously, it only quickened his speed and Ian bucked his hips involuntarily into his fist. 

“Shh… Tend to your customers, Ian,” he replied, a devilish grin splayed along his moist lips. Before Ian could say another word, Mickey lifted his cock straight up to grant him access to his balls, sucking one right into his mouth. If his tongue circling each globe wasn’t enough to start pushing Ian over the edge, the circles he was rubbing into the sensitive underside of the redhead’s dick definitely was. 

Ian bit his lip, knuckles turning bone-white as his fingers gripped onto the edge of the counter, and a groan bubbled in his throat until he let it out between gritted teeth. 

Just then, he was shocked out of his moment of bliss when items were thrown onto the counter. _Fucking children_ , even though they were probably around the same age as him.

“Is—is that all?” Ian asked arranging the snack foods so he could easily see the prices to punch it into the register, quickly. He did his best not to look at them directly, imagining what his face looked like right now. The beads of sweat forming on his forehead causing his short red hair to stick to the skin, his own lips red from biting down on it so often, and the unfortunate aspect of being a pale Ginger—the slightest thing could turn his whole face red as well.

Mickey was fucking relentless. His hands gripped Ian’s thighs, pushing them apart further, and he took Ian’s swollen cock into his mouth again until his gag reflex was activated. Under his fingers, he could feel Ian’s muscles tighten when his throat closed around the sensitive organ and he began bobbing his head along his length quickly.

Above him, Ian was scrambling to type in the prices, fingers slipping every so often, as he tried not to squeeze the fake fruit compote out of the cherry pie pastry in his hand. He was melting under Mickey’s roaming hands, the message scribbled in ink on Mickey’s knuckles holding true in this very moment. He was really fucking Ian up. 

“Do you—” He inhaled deeply as a surge of electricity coursed through him when Mickey ran his teeth along the underside of his cock and he had to drop the popsicle he just finished adding to the register before he fucked that up too. “Do you need a bag?” 

Curious eyes bored right into his soul, judging him, trying to expose him, as he unnecessarily stacked the purchased items together, busying his hands that were itching to grab a fistful of Mickey’s hair. He couldn’t look at them.

“Yeah,” one replied.

Thank god for the distraction, but he wasn’t sure how to approach it. The bags were a couple steps away from him. Ian was long-limbed for his age, yes, but it was still _just_ out of reach.

With a quick, and hopefully discreet, glance down at Mickey, who was entirely unbothered by this situation and occupied by his own devices, Ian attempted to slide off the stool and immediately realized how terrible of an idea that was when he grabbed onto the counter. He was fucking _weak-kneed_. 

“L-Legs fell asleep,” Ian offered, trying to pull himself back together. He leaned over and picked apart a bag just with the tips of his fingers, the farthest he could go without dislodging Mickey from him because the little shit would. Not. Let. Go. Fucking Milkoviches for you.

He actually felt Mickey chuckle around his cock. 

Bitch. He was getting him back for this after his shift was over.

Disregarding how careful he was in stacking the purchased items earlier, Ian shoved them into the bag, awaiting payment.

“$12.50.”

“Dude, you got 50 cents?” One of the kids asked his friend, digging into his pocket to place crumpled bills on the countertop. 

“Uhm…” The other kid did the same, but started pulling out a penny, a dime, a fucking _button_. All the while, Mickey pulled off him, which Ian was thankful for because maybe he decided to finally spare him the relief and his sanity. 

He was woefully mistaken. 

He felt warm tongue run over his slit again, causing a shiver down his spine, and again, and once more for good measure before Mickey started sucking on his tip, slowly drawing out all the composure Ian had left.

Ian cleared his throat, resting his chin in his palm, biting his fingernails as the other rapped against the glass surface. _Fuck_ , he just wanted to cum already…

“You know what,” He said with a start, maybe a little too loudly and possibly a little too sharply, “Don’t worry about the change. It’s fine. Have a nice day.” He pushed the bag over to them, taking the bills on the counter. If he had the mental capacity to count them, he would have seen it was only $11, but at the same time, he still wouldn’t have cared.

His nails dug into his palm as he watched the kids walk out the door. Mickey had fully enveloped Ian’s cock with his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he slid down his length. It was so warm, so inviting, so delicious. 

“ _Fuck, Mickey…_ ” Ian’s head dropped into his palm and a soft moan escaped before he could help himself, allowing himself a moment to finally be able to enjoy it. He slid his hand underneath the counter, running his fingers through Mickey’s hair as he slid further off the stool to urge Mickey to move faster. 

Surprisingly, Mickey was compliant, placing his hands against Ian’s bare thighs, which were littered with small bruises where Mickey deliberately marked him in beginning of all this. He moved along Ian’s length swiftly, working him as best as he could within the small space, and fuck it all if he wasn’t doing it _so_ _well_. 

Ian combated every fiber in his body from leaning over the counter, muscles wanting to give in to pleasure. He couldn’t. Cameras were still on in the store. “I’m…I’m close, Mickey…”

Oh, how he hoped and wished customers would give him a break this time around as Mickey began to push him over the edge. Mickey’s expert tongue circled him, soft vibrations emitting from his throat when he hummed…or was that a moan? Ian gripped the edge of the counter to steady himself, easily about to lose control of his limbs.

Short gasps fought against wrangled moans as he forced himself silent through his release, biting down on his palm. He lost the battle of keeping his eyes open and attentive, accepting sweet, blissful defeat while Mickey sat obediently, taking everything Ian was giving. 

It’s not often Mickey was like this—even during actual sex was he anything but. But the very few times he’s gotten blowjobs from Mickey, he’d always been catered to, always been made to feel special. And sometimes Ian got the feeling that Mickey actually liked him for real and wasn’t only in this for sex. But, for course, Ian usually couldn’t tell with him.

Body officially worn out as he came down from his orgasmic high, stiffening every time Mickey ran his tongue along his sensitive cock to lap up the excess, Ian sat erect when the door chimes jingled once more. 

Of course he couldn’t catch a break. 

The customer walked right up to the counter and Ian hoped to fucking God he didn’t look as disheveled as he felt.

“C-Can I help you?” Ian asked, trying to control his breathing while Mickey placed soft open-mouthed kisses along his thighs, _purposefully_ nudging his spent cock.

“Can I get one Mega Million, Lucky Day Lotto, and a Pick 4?”

“Sure.”

Thankfully, he didn’t have to move to prepare this order. 

“Oh, and throw in a pack of Marlboros.”

…Those he did. All the cigarettes were on shelves behind him and, in order to reach them, he would have to physically get up, which he couldn’t really do with his pants around his ankles.

“Sorry, we’re out,” Ian responded as he pulled the lottery tickets out, punching the prices in the cash register.

“What d’you mean? They’re right there. I’m looking at them.”

“I’m glad you’ve got 20/20 vision, but they’re old. Gotta get them replaced.”

Mickey had the audacity to chuckle before taking hold of his length and pumping it carefully. _Again??_ Ian tried to pry Mickey’s hand away with his knee, but it wasn’t working. He wasn’t in the best position to do that successfully.

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

Ian had to fight back his urge to roll his eyes, and swallowed a groan.

“Shipment isn’t in yet. Come back tomorrow for that. $8.05 for the lottery tickets.” He bit his lip when he could feel himself getting coaxed back to life. Damn his fucking libido. Mickey would always underhandedly commend him for his quick recovery time because that only meant more rounds in a day and Ian always welcomed it—prided himself for that because of Mickey—but this was _not_ one of those days.

“But it—”

“Yo, guy,” Ian interrupted, “Either pay for the lottery tickets and win a couple bucks, or get the fuck out.” 

He felt the nip of Mickey’s teeth on his thigh again. Mickey always bit him when he liked something Ian did, but usually sexually, and that thought alone always got Ian going.

The customer muttered a curse at Ian as he placed exact change on the counter. “Don’t need a receipt.” He took the lottery tickets and left the store. Good fucking riddance. 

Before another customer could walk in, Ian finally stood—albeit uncoordinated—forcing himself out of Mickey’s hand. He grabbed Mickey’s hoodie that was thrown to the side (still wasn’t sure why Mickey had decided to wear a hoodie in this heatwave) and tied it around his waist, so he could scoot back without his bare ass getting captured on camera. 

“What—”

“Lock the door and meet me in the back,” Ian all but commanded. It took Mickey only a second to get his wits back in check when he understood what Ian was getting at, and responded with nothing but a smug grin. He slinked out the other side of the counter, where he had successfully created a tunnel for himself from a hole he had discovered weeks ago.

As Ian pulled his pants up and tucked himself back in, Mickey locked the front door, turning the sign to ‘closed’. They shared one look before taking unnaturally large steps to the back room of the drink fridges, shutting the door behind them. 

So much for waiting until his shift was over.

Yeah, Ian definitely wasn’t entirely sure who won this wager.


End file.
